It’s billed as one of the biggest grudge matches ever witnessed in international football. And for good reason.
The Falklands War, the Hand of God, Beckham vs Diego Simeone (remember the 1998 World Cup when Becks reacted with fury after being fouled by the Argentine, kicking out at the player who feigned collapse, earning the England midfielder a red card and widespread vilification back home).
While England and Argentina have disagreed for decades over the right and wrongs of the political and sporting divides between the two countries, this is a match that will divide my family.
For when Lionel Messi, ‘Dibu’ Martinez, Julián Alvarez and the rest of the Argentine team line up to sing their national anthem tonight, I will be singing my heart out alongside them and their 45million countrymen from a bar in Buenos Aires.
Meanwhile, Matthew, 43, my younger brother by three years, will be belting out ‘football’s coming home…’ and cheering on every one of Jude Bellingham’s penetrating runs and Harry Kane’s decisive headers.
So whose loyalty is the truest? Both of us were born in England and raised on the same diet of baked beans, Marmite and rhubarb crumble and custard.
My father, a doctor and Olympic fencer from Oxford, and my mother, a teacher and aspiring actress from Buenos Aires, met in Paris in the late 1970s.
My first few years were spent living in cosmopolitan Montparnasse in Paris, where my father worked for The American Hospital.
We moved to the sleepy English village of Dinton in Buckinghamshire in 1985. I was five, and even now remember the distinct feeling of being out of place and craving acceptance from my peers.
When Lionel Messi and the rest of the Argentine team line up to sing their national anthem tonight, I will be singing my heart out alongside them, writes Vanessa Bell
It was during the 1986 World Cup that I took stock of my Argentine heritage for the first time. Watching my homesick mother rooting for her country’s team, match-after-nail-biting match, made a huge impression on me.
Together we lived the drama of that fateful encounter against England in the quarter-finals, with Maradona´s controversial goal quickly followed by his Goal of the Century, a piece of individual genius that dumped England out of the tournament.
My mother was elated when Argentina won the cup. In pretty Dinton, as English as it could be with its 12th-century church and village green, she was moved to tears by Maradona’s iconic pose as he hoisted the trophy high above his head.
I was captivated. It marked the beginning of my unwavering support for Argentina.
Our mother spoke to us Spanish, in a porteño (from Buenos Aires) accent, sang traditional nursery rhymes, dished up family recipes and acclimatised us to Argentine passion.
It was imperative that we spoke Spanish since her relatives didn´t speak English. Language was her way of connecting us.
We´d count down the days till we went to visit her family in the Argentine capital, usually over the Christmas holidays, happily leaving behind the grim English winter, and showing off our exotic tans to our school friends on our return.
My brother was born in 1982, the year Argentinian troops occupied the Falkland Islands.
My mother recalls a frosty reception crossing the English border during and in the immediate aftermath of the war. I remember my parents discussing the conflict at home, abhorring Margaret Thatcher’s decision to torpedo the ARA General Belgrano.
For Argentina today, the Falklands War is far from over.
Their claim for sovereignty of the islands persists, and the Malvinas, as they’re known there, are everywhere – the islands’ outline emblazoned on T-shirts, on road-signs, tattooed on chests and plastered on the side of buses with the accompanying slogan ´Las Malvinas son Argentinas´ (Las Malvinas are Argentine).
For many Argentinians, England and Thatcher stand for everything that is anti-Argentine and unpatriotic, yet it often feels more political than a tangible dislike for English people.
Indeed there has always been a great appreciation and love of British culture and customs.
Many send their kids to bilingual English schools, fixate over bands such as The Beatles and Oasis, and have a particular obsession with the Rolling Stones.
My brother and I moved to London, and while he found his feet and flourished, for me it felt hostile and frantic, and that I was trapped on a hamster wheel.
I’d long toyed with the idea of moving to Argentina and, on the eve of my 30th birthday – 16 years ago – I bit the bullet and left.
I was drawn to the warmth and openness of Buenos Aires. Here, people work to live and never need an excuse to socialise. In Argentina, the sobremesa (after dinner conversation) is a religion, and spending Sunday lunch with friends and family is sacred.
Soon after arriving, I applied for my Argentine citizenship and began teaching English. I became a freelance writer for international media and set up a successful concierge service called Creme de la Creme, creating curated tours and itineraries of Buenos Aires for discerning tourists.
Drawn to the warmth and openness of Buenos Aires, Vanessa moved there 16 years ago
When Argentine beat Switzerland 3-1 on Sunday, and knowing they would be facing England in the semi-final, the Argentinian coach Lionel Scaloni immediately insisted: ‘It’s a football match. Let’s not read too much into it.’
Yet for countless Argentinians, it is so much more than that. For many, it’s an open wound that won´t heal, a cross to bear. It’s even seen as a way of honouring the veterans who fought in that war.
Meetings and social engagements have been postponed for later in the week. Schools and offices will close early.
The atmosphere in Buenos Aires is expectant, the tension palpable. Children at the park frantically swap football cards in the hope of scoring Messi. Regulars at the local pizzeria earnestly discuss tactics, while blue and white flags festoon the streets, shop windows and car windshields.
People here are highly superstitious and many have their rituals (called cábalas), which they truly believe can influence results.
Sitting in a specific spot on the sofa, wearing the same clothes, popping out at half time to buy cigarettes. Even Visa Argentina´s World Cup advertising campaign shows midfielder Rodrigo de Paul reminding people about their acts of good luck.
Nowadays, my motives for supporting Argentina are tied up with my feelings of gratitude towards my adoptive country.
Over 16 years, I´ve been able to forge a career and prosper, follow my dreams and build a family with my Argentine partner.
So tonight I’ll be clutching my lucky Messi sticker and sitting at the same table at the same neighbourhood bar as I have done for all of Argentina’s matches. I’m not taking any chances.
As for our bilingual four-year-old son, Messi and the Argentine squad have captured his heart.
I am expecting some friendly banter between my brother over text – and will naturally raise a glass to England if they emerge the victor. But for the sake of my loyalty to Argentina, I can´t cheer your heroes on. Luckily, we have plenty of our own.
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